


A Letter Written in Red

by TheDyingStory



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Multi, Romance, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 01:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4121107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDyingStory/pseuds/TheDyingStory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate au, where you don't see color until you meet your soulmate, starring dave and karkat.<br/>Short and quick read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Letter Written in Red

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this.

You are Karkat Vantas and when you wake up, you’re greeted with many bright colors. You can see orange and blue of the morning sky outside, the orange merges with yellow light through the window; those colors dance against of the photos hung around the room. There’s brown of the desk, and few green plants sitting on the windowsill. Your favorite of all the colors is red, though you don’t see much of it in the room.  There’s a little red on the blankets covering you, some red on the clouds outside, red of the walls, red in the pile of clothes in the corner, and some red in the photos hanging around (and your red hair, but you can’t really see that without looking in a mirror).

Of course, it’s not the red on the sheets, or the red of the sky or any red you previously pointed. You flip yourself so you’re on your side, coming face to face with the person sleeping next to you. Dave Strider has never been a morning person to you, you aren’t one either but you still wake up early. His skin is dotted with freckles and tanned by the Texas sun. His hair is a nice small contrast to his skin, bleach white hair against tan.  His muscles are taut and can be easily seen through his tight T-shirt – correction, _your_ T-shirt. His t-shirts aren’t pulled so tightly when he wears them. He wears your clothes when it’s just the two of you sometimes, and if they are big enough. You sometimes wish you were a little bigger so you could see him wearing your clothes more often.

There’s nothing noticeably red on the boy next to you, but that’s because his eyes are closed. His eyes are the most gorgeous red you’ve ever seen, bright and shimmering with life. You could stare into them for days.

It was difficult before you saw his eyes. Everything was gray, white or black. Never the slightest bit of color. No one ever sees color until you meet your soulmate, and once they die you stop seeing color. You spent that majority of your life believing you didn’t have one and Dave spent the majority wondering who his soulmate was.

He saw color before you, but when he did he didn’t see a person who had begun to see color at the same time.  He spent most of the time thinking his ability to see color was a fluke or that his soulmate had run away when they found out he was their soulmate.  Neither of those were the case. The reason for this was his shades. A soulmate had to see the others eyes in order to see color, and the first color they saw was the color of their soulmate’s eyes. His shades prevented others from seeing his eyes but he could see theirs.

You remember it clearly. Dave was held up in his room, wouldn’t talk to anyone for the longest time. You didn’t know why then, but you do now. He was depressed; part of it from soulmate issues but the most was just the weight of life and whatever else was nagging in his mind. You came to visit, to drag him out of his shell and negativity (honestly, you’re not sure why people opted you to be the one to do it).

Dirk had allowed you in, knowing that you would be able to help Dave, maybe not a lot but it was better than nothing. You had found Dave curled up in a ball in bed, though he wasn’t asleep.  You remember how he curled into himself even more when you approached. He told you to leave him alone, and you sassed him back but in a serious to tone so he understood you wouldn’t leave. 

You spoke, he didn’t. He was shaking when you stopped running your mouth.

“I wish I was like you.” That was what he had said. You were confused, until he said in a shaky voice, “I don’t want to see colors; I hate them.” He hated himself. He hated that he wasn’t worthy of having a soulmate or for being incapable of being loved. He explains how he had thought it was Aradia, your cousin, because when the two of you entered the school he saw her eyes and then the world was painted in light. Her eyes were brown, and that was the first color he saw. But when he brought it up, he found that she could already see color, long before he could.

All you could do was listen to him. That was when he slowly began falling apart. He felt abnormal, he like he was wrong. You countered, saying it was complete bullshit, that is was common for some people to see color and not find their soulmate. People were constantly meeting soulmates all the time, there was bound to be some confusions. Maybe his soulmate thought they were someone else’s soulmate.

You tried to turn the conversation into a different direction, away from the self-hate. You told him that being able to see color shouldn’t be something bad, even if his soulmate was missing or non-existent. He begged to differ, and you retaliated by saying that he didn’t need a soulmate. Instead he could cherish the gift he got from whatever short encounter they had. He could see the beauty in the world that many couldn’t.

He tried to counter, but you didn’t give him the chance. “Do you think your soulmate would want you to ignore all the beauty in the world simply because they’re not around? Trust me, Dave, they would want you to be mesmerized by it like them,” you had said.

He had uncurled slightly from his position, and stared at you. “Your hair is red.” You didn’t know what red looked like but you weren’t about to stop him.

“How red?”

“Really red – but that’s from when John pranked you. It was brown before then.” You nodded, recalling that John had pranked you by putting dye in your shampoo bottle. You could only tell something was different by a slight change in shade.

“What else?” He looked a little confused by your request, but it had only taken him a short moment before he understood.

“Your skin is light brown, you have some freckles on face, your eyes are black, and your shirt is black.”

“Black?”

“Yeah, and so are your pants.”

“My eyes are brown.” He looked at you like you lied to him. You sighed, “Your glasses are fucking up your ability to see color, numb-nuts. I know because anyone who can see color, while not wearing shades, has said they are brown.”

“Oh.” He looked like a kicked dog for a split second, before he fixed his façade.

“Here,” you began, reaching for his glasses. “This should help you actually see-”

“What?” He asked, unsure what to make of the situation. He stared at your eyes while you stared at his.

You wanted to say something but you didn’t know what to call it. You turned your attention to the hair in your face, recalling what he said your hair was and looked back at his eyes.

“Your eyes are red.” They were, and they looked beautiful, even with the redness of the skin around them. You realized that meant he had been crying at some point, obviously.

The pieces of the puzzle had been put together. Dave first made eye contact with you but looked at Aradia once color began to show. He saw your eyes, saw the brown, and you finally saw his, all the red.

It was a heart wrenching moment, and somewhat awkward as it was completely unexpected. That was over four years ago.

Now, you lie in bed next to him in the same room where you found out he was your soulmate and you were his. You want to see those eyes of his, but you don’t want to stare at him like a creep until he wakes up.

Luckily he opens his eyes just as you decide you should get out of bed and take a shower instead of being creepy. He must have known that you were aiming to get out of bed, since he reaches over and then has you in his death grip. And by “death grip”, you mean his “no way in fuck are you getting out of bed this early without giving me snuggles” grip.

“Morning,” you say, a little annoyed that he has made you a prisoner.

He mumbles something that sounds like “g’morning” and rubs his cheek against you shoulder. You smile, knowing he can’t see you, pull him closer. You can feel the beat of his heart against your back, and it’s so calming you might just fall asleep.

Once he gets his fill of snuggles, or rather falls asleep again, you escape and take a shower and start breakfast. You have work today, but not until afternoon, meanwhile you’ll probably have to drag Dave out of bed since he has to get ready to work in no less than an hour. Of course, you find that you won’t have to force him out of bed when you hear the shower running.

Twenty minutes later he comes into the kitchen, just as you finish breakfast. He goes straight in for a kiss, rather than the food. It’s slow and gentle, and so passionate you think you might be in a movie. Well, if you’re being honest, kisses in movies don’t always look so real or passionate. So, this feels more real and meaningful.

You push him away, sensing he wants to continue and if you do you’ll end up back in the bed. “Eat,” you tell him. He sighs, kissing you once more before doing as he’s told.

He finishes quickly, just as you finish cleaning up. He sneaks kisses from you while he begins to get ready to leave for work. A kiss here and kiss there. He’s awfully clingy today, normally it’s only a few kisses in the morning and a kiss a night.

Finally, he has to leave. You kiss him on the cheek, since he’s just been smothering you with kisses like there’s no tomorrow. Only, once you pull back he brings you back in for a powerful kiss.

“Love you,” he whispers, holding you firmly with his arms around your waist. Yeah, that isn’t gonna fly.

“You can’t skip work, Dave.” You sigh, but do not pull away from the embrace. He whines, even though he could very much take a sick day off. He’s been working a lot and could use a break, but his day off is tomorrow anyway so he can work for today. Sick days are for when he really needs them.

“I know,” he yields, “I just really want to spend today with you.” If someone pointed out how red your face was, you would completely deny it. But in your own thoughts you are embarrassed by how flushed your face probably is.

“You have tomorrow off, and I made sure that tomorrow would be free for me too. We can spend all day tomorrow doing whatever shitty thing you want to do. Hell, we can even go to that movie you want to see – what is it… Jurassic World?”

That brings a small smile out of him. “Hell yeah, you’ll love those dinosaurs…. But not much as I love you.”

“Flattery isn’t going to get you out of work, Dave.”

“I wasn’t trying to be flattering. I’m 100% serious.”

“Whatever you say.” You sigh and rest against for a moment, before pulling away – not by much since you’re still in his arms. “You should really get going or you’ll be late.”

He hums, “I love you.” He presses his lips against your temple.

“I love you too.”

He nods and heads out the door, a smile on his face. God, you love him.

You have several hours to get ready for work, so you spend them by cleaning the apartment. While it’s already pretty clean, it can be cleaner. You’ve had a habit with cleaning, specifically after Dave. He’s never been the cleanest, things scattered here and there. It was more of a pain to clean when Dirk was around though. Swords and robot parts were everywhere, mostly swords (he at least kept most of his robotic shit in his room). 

Dirk moved out a while ago, and lives with his soulmate. Dirks room turned into Dave’s work room, and by work you mean art. Dave’s draws with his right hand, even though he’s left handed, that is the secret to his comic Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, but he can make stunning drawings when using his left hand. He’s drawn you multiple times; you’ve caught him drawing on his sketch pad when he thought you weren’t looking. It’s just like when he takes photos of you.

You clean the room you and Dave share, particularly doing to laundry and getting rid of bottle of apple juice and chip bags. You make sure that his photos aren’t damaged and placed where they need to be, which is not on the floor where you found them (he takes so many that it’s a wonder how you can even control the mess). You make the bed and look under the bed where, surprise, you find more photos – most of them are you. He probably hid them there thinking you wouldn’t find them. Clearly, he doesn’t still know how you clean.

You return to the kitchen, that is now spotless, to have lunch. Dave, and if not him then Kanaya, would get mad if you didn’t something. You settle for an apple, since you aren’t in the mood to make something especially after cleaning.

You receive a text from Jade, and answer while taking a bite out of the apple. She wants to know you’re up to go bowling with her, Feferi, John and Roxy tomorrow. Of course, that does include Dave. You have to get more info before you can decide that. You explain that you aim to take Dave to the movies, she just goes “awwwe” and you are glad that she is far away because she’d probably be pinching your cheeks otherwise (or just cheering for you, either way).

You turn the conversation on to her, so you don’t have to risk more blood going to your cheeks. She’s a giddy and happy when she talks about this boy she met. It’s nice that she’s met someone, and just as long as the guy doesn’t fuck shit up, you’re fine with him.

Eventually your back onto the bowling topic, and she really wants you and Dave to join. You sigh and take another bite from the grey orb in your hand, debating over whether you should deny or –

_Wait. Grey orb?_

You look at the apple in your hand. It’s not red.

“Jade, I have to go.” You nearly choke, and hang up. You look around you and slowly everything loses color.

Your heart seizes, and you think you might be hyperventilating. You type in Dave’s number in your phone as fast as you can.

_Please no._

The ringing on the other end continues and continues until you think he’s answered, only for it to be his voicemail. You hang up, and call again. No answer. No goddamn answer.

_Oh god._

Your pacing back and forth, panicking as the colors around you are fading into shades of grey. You nearly jump out of your skin when you phone rings. But it’s not Dave, it’s Rose.

“Rose?” You answer, your voice notably shaky.

“Karkat,” she begins. But her voice is no better than yours, if anything it’s worse. “It’s Dave.”

_No, no, no._

“There was an accident.” You can’t breathe. “I’m sorry-”

You don’t want to finish the sentence, so you hang up. You don’t want to hear an apology for something you don’t want to believe. You can’t believe it.

He just left no more than two hours ago, he should be alright. He should be smiling and laughing. He should be here with you. He’s not dead. Dave’s not dead.

Rose calls you again, you don’t answer. She leaves you a voicemail, “Karkat, I’m sorry. But Dave’s dead. It was a car accident. The guy that ran a red light and hit Dave died almost immediately but Dave was still alive when he was rushed to the hospital. His injuries were too severe, he was going to die. Before he died, he asked me to call you and tell you he was sorry that he couldn’t marry you sooner and there’s a letter in his desk for you.” There’s a pause before she continues, “I’m sorry, Karkat, I really am. Please, call me when you can or maybe Kanaya. Please.” The voicemail ends and you’re chocking of sobs, as you go to Dave’s art room.

In the drawer of the desk you find the letter written in red pen.

_Karkat,_

_If you have this letter that clearly means I fucked up badly or died or both. I actually have no fucking clue why I’m making this letter. I could just talk to you like a normal person, but then again when has normal ever been cool. So, basically this is a letter for on the off chance something happens like, I don’t know, I do something incredibly stupid (let’s be honest, I’ll probably die from doing something that you told me not to do – also you have the right to say “I told you so”)._

_Anyway, you remember that time when we found out we were soulmates? Obviously you should, I don’t know why I’m asking. But I just want to say that I loved you even before then. Hell, the reason why I broke down about all the soulmate stuff was mainly because I thought I wasn’t your soulmate. I lied when I said I thought Aradia was my soulmate, because I didn’t want to outright and confess my feelings to you while I was a blubbering mess, you know. I saw you and everything just hit me like a wrecking ball. You remember when you first saw me then when your came to school. You looked in my eyes (shades), I saw colors, and you were thinking “what the fuck is this kid doing falling on the ground like someone punched him but nobody did”. Don’t lie; I know you were thinking that._

_I was really confused then, since you know, I thought your eyes were black even though they were just a dark brown. And then at some I didn’t think Aradia was my soulmate, but I hadn’t looked at her when you guys showed. It’s funny how before I even knew you, you had me by just standing there._

_Anyway, ever since then I liked you. I didn’t love you because I hardly knew you, but eventually I fell really fucking hard. You were the most beautiful thing I saw in this world, Karkat. When you asked me to cherish the beauty in the world I so badly wanted to kiss you. But again, I had no clue that you were the ~~chosen one~~ soulmate (ignore what’s crossed out, that was stupid, and no I’m not a dork). _

_So, I really fucking love you. And I would tell you that every day if you didn’t get annoyed so easily. I just want you to always know that. And if we don’t grow old together, that’ll be a major bummer but I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to live the rest of your life like it was never touched by color. Even when thing go grey, I want you to live like there’s still color._

_Love,_

_Dave_

 

You’re on the floor sobbing. You don’t want him to be gone; you don’t want this letter to exist. You want him here holding you and reassuring you that everything will be okay.

You don’t care about the color. You don’t care if everything is grey.

The only beauty you truly cherished in the world is dead.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write about soul mates and Dave suddenly dying. This is what happens.


End file.
